


Bunny Stew

by carmenta



Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-19
Updated: 2006-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost, but not quite, crack. From a writer's POV bunnies simply have to be dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bunny Stew

As far as Damien was concerned, it had been a good day. Sunny but not hot, a soft breeze, just the right weather for travelling. The horses had been calm all day, the path had been easy. No nasty surprises like earthquakes, run-ins with demons or even mundane outlaws. Even the Iezu they had spoken to in the little temple at the roadside had been one of the pleasant and coherent ones. The priestess had been kind enough to let them study the few books in the temple's possession, which meant Gerald hadn't even had to Coerce her into agreement. It always made Damien feel much better when they didn't have to trick nice old ladies in that way.

The campsite followed the day's trend as well. Sheer rock to one side, a little creek to the other; easily defended. Enough dry wood to quickly get a fire started. Altogether the kind of day Damien could quite happily get used to.

He had their camp set up by the time Gerald returned with two plump bunnies. It was an arrangement they had settled on rather quickly in their travels, once it had turned out that the centuries had not been too kind to Gerald's cooking skills.

The bunnies were deposited next to Damien and he set himself to the task of skinning them, concentrating on not cutting himself until a low hiss made him look across the fire at Gerald, who seemed to be struggling with his pack.

One-handed, the other bloodied.

Damien dropped the rabbit immediately, laid the knife aside and crossed over to Gerald's side.

"What did you do?" he asked, unceremoniously taking the bleeding hand and turning it over to find the injury.

"Nothing. Do not let me inconvenience you." Gerald withdrew his hand, his expression carefully blank. A quick poke confirmed that the mind link was firmly shut as well. Not unexpected, since they had played this out a few times before and Damien knew that some blood was not enough to make an admission of pain or even a request for help acceptable.

Stubborn ex-prophet.

He frowned, then reached for the injured hand again, his grip firm enough this time to prevent Gerald from withdrawing unless he put up a struggle. Which would be far too undignified, and which therefore wouldn't happen.

"Have you Cleansed it yet?" he asked, taking one of their canteens. If there was still dirt left in the wound, a Working would be better suited to clean it, but the water would wash off the blood for a moment so he could see what he was dealing with.

"Of course," came the slightly indignant reply. "I told you, I can do this myself. It just needs bandaging." If Gerald had been about to say more, it was replaced by a sharply drawn breath as water poured onto the blood-covered palm.

Nothing serious, Damien quickly saw. Just odd little puncture wounds, deep enough to bleed freely but not looking too dramatic.

"What the vulk did you do to yourself?" he demanded, ignoring Gerald's glare easily.

"I did not do anything, Vryce," the adept snapped, reaching for the first-aid kit with his good hand.

Damien took the kit from him. "All right, let's argue semantics if it makes you happy. What did this to you, then?" He quickly found a pad of gauze and pressed it against the wounds after confirming that they were indeed clean.

"A hunting accident," Gerald said, his tone making it plain that he wished no further questions.

Damien rolled his eyes. "Fine. So did you stab yourself? Fall and cut up your hand?" He paused, reaching for a strop of bandage. "Did that cute little bunny attack you?"

At the last suggestion there was just the barest hint of embarrassment on the handsome face, for a mere moment.

Damien busied himself with bandaging Gerald's hand, biting his tongue to keep from laughing.

"Rabbits can be fierce when cornered," he said, managing to keep his face straight as he tied the bandage into place. "There you go. Try not to use your hand for tonight."

Gerald snatched his hand back as soon as it was released, cradling it against his chest. "It was far more intelligent than normal rabbits," he muttered, glancing at the blood stains on his shirt. After a moment they vanished.

"How so?" Damien asked, stowing the kit away again and making a mental note to replenish it at their next stop.

"It played dead after I shot it, then snapped at my hand when I picked it up," Gerald explained in his best do-not-dare-to-even-smirk voice.

Damien burst out laughing.

Shooting him a murderous glare, Gerald sniffed and rose. A glower at the rabbits, then he stalked off to check on the horses. Damien let him retreat to nurse his wounded pride, and set out to prepare dinner instead. He had a suspicion that rabbit stew might improve the adept's mood.

 _You are sleeping alone tonight_ , he heard through the mind link.

 _Suit yourself_ , he shot back. _I'm not the one who'll complain about being cold._

A bit of hesitation, then, _fine. But no more mention of rabbits._

Damien grinned and stirred the stew. _Of course not._


End file.
